Reality Can be so Cruel
by MyrMyr19
Summary: Malik wakes up to find that his worst nightmares are only the beginning. Dark, one-sided bronzeshipping. AU
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Malik sat at his usual spot at his favorite coffee shop in Domino, sipping at his usual mocha and alternating between looking out the window and looking at the counter in the center of the shop. No, not the counter, but a certain boy behind the counter. Said boy would blush and duck his head, hiding his face with his white bangs every time their eyes would meet, causing the tanned blond to grin.

See, there was a reason why Malik came to this specific coffee shop, which was at the other end of the city, at least three times a week. Sure, the place was cozy and the coffee was good, but the real reason was standing behind the counter at that very moment.

Malik had met Ryou a couple weeks before when his sister took him out for coffee at this very shop, which was right across the street from the Domino Museum, where the older Ishtar was hosting an exhibition on Egypt. At the sight of the cute barista with the unusual white hair, the Egyptian boy couldn't help but lean against the counter, flashing his biggest grin before trying to strike up a conversation. Trying being the important word. The boy, who he came to know as Ryou, politely answered his questions, keeping his eyes glued to the counter before handing him his drink and turning to the next customer. At that point, Malik usually gave up and went after another, but something about the boy with the white hair and the feminine features intrigued him, and he was soon infatuated. And so began the constant visits, the caffeine addiction and flirting attempts.

Finishing the last drops of his coffee, Malik stood up, walking towards the counter. It was starting to get dark, maybe he should head home soon, He wouldn't leave without having his usual chat with the feminine employee though, so he dropped his cup on the counter slightly louder than necessary, causing Ryou to look up. Seeing who was standing not two feet away from him, the glanced back down at his cleaning rag he was using to wipe the counter. "Hey Malik."

"Hello Ryou," he hummed, hoisting himself up to sit on Ryou's workspace. After hanging out at the same place for a while, the blond knew the do's and don't's of the place. Since the boss had left in the early evening and there was only a handful of other customers, Ryou would let him sit on the counter, acting as if it bothered him but not asking him to get off. "What's new in your pretty little life?"

Ryou rolled his eyes, smiling as he saw his friend take his usual spot on the counter. "Nothing much has happened in two days, you know." He wiped at an imaginary stain. "And you?"

"You know my life is uneventful." Malik answered. They both stayed silent for minute before the blond spoke up again. "So I was wondering," he drawled, looking up at the ceiling. "as much as I love seeing you with your cute little apron, how you would look in the outside world. Say, at the movies or something." He glanced back at Ryou, his faithful grin plastered on his face.

The white-haired boy turned bright pink, looking up to lock eyes with Malik before glancing back down. "Are you... asking me to the movies?" He asked timidly.

Malik nodded, his grin widening. "But of course. Say, you aren't going to brush little old me off, are you?" He pouted, giving the other boy the best puppy eyes he could muster.

Ryou giggled, biting his lip. "No, I'd love to. Go to the movies, I mean." his pale complexion was tinged pink once again as a blush crept up his face.

"Great!" Malik beamed, leaning in closer. "So I'll meet you here tomorrow, yeah?" He ran his finger along the other's smooth cheek, ignoring the tinkling of the bell over the front door of the shop. Ryou's skin was hot under his finger as the other stuttered an affirmative. Malik winked as he hopped off the counter. "See you tomorrow then, Ryou." he waved over his shoulder before heading out of the shop, grinning to himself.

It was dark outside the shop, and he shivered as his purple hoodie did nothing to protect him from the harsh December winds. Heading towards his motorcycle, the blond dug through his pockets, slipping a cigarette between his lips before rummaging for his lighter. "Dammit, where's the damn thing..." he mumbled around the cigarette.

"Malik Ishtar?" A rough voice called, causing him to look back.

"Hm?" he called, unlit cigarette still hanging from his lips. He saw no one between the lit coffee shop and him, and he was about to turn back around when a strong arm wrapped around his waist, pining him against something - someone - standing right behind him. He could feel a warm breath against his ear, and he wiggled in the other's grasp, dropping the nicotine as a "what the fuck?" left his lips.

"Don't worry, this will only sting a little bit," the voice crooned in his ear.

"Wha-?" Malik started to ask as a blow to the head made him flinch, the coffee shop at the end of the parking lot growing fuzzy before everything went black.

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><p><strong>AN**: Very short prologue before the story actually starts. Now, off to figure out how FFnet actually works with publishing... /first time writer here


	2. The Room

**The Room.  
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The first thing Malik was aware of was the heavy pounding that seemed to take over his whole skull. Groaning weakly, he started to open his eyes, only to squeeze them shut again as the light of the room burned his retinas and made his head pound even harder. Groaning weakly, he pressed his arm over his eyes in an attempt to block the light completely before thinking. What could've possible happened the night before for him to be in such a state? He didn't remember going out drinking. Then what...?

He remembered working. Clocking out. Lounging around in his apartment in West Domino. Heading out to see Ryou-

The thought of the white-haired boy sent a particularly painful jolt through his skull. Ryou. The coffee shop. Blurred images were appearing in his mind now, disappearing after a second to let another one in its place like an old vacation diaporama. Walking out of the shop. The voice.

That's it. Someone had hit him over the head with... Something heavy, and he passed out. But then, _where the hell was he?_

Mustering the courage to finally face the light, Malik let his arm fall from his face to his side, squinting into the light. His eyes got used to the assault after a minute or two, letting him open his eyes fully and survey the room. He didn't recognize the place at all, making him feel uneasy. First, the air was very cold. The walls were wooden panels, with no decorations nor windows. Low wooden beams hung from the ceiling, and the light source, a single naked light bulb hanging from between two beams, was yellowing and dirty. The chain next to the light was short, somewhat looking like it was broken some time ago. There was a tiny nightstand, covered with dust and nothing more. The bed, on which he was currently lying on, was twin-sized and thin, springs poking Malik in the ribs as he shifted. The head of the bed, just like the base, was made up of metal bars; in fact, the whole frame looked like it was made of metal.

The feeling of uneasiness kept growing as Malik sat up. He could see a small maroon rug next to the bed, a futile attempt to cover the bare cement floor. Yet, the thing that caught his eye was the door, barely visible between the cracks in the wood. The doorknob gleamed harshly under the yellowing light, and old-fashioned door handle with a gaping keyhole.

Hope rose like a balloon in his chest as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, not caring about his feet touching the freezing cement. A door meant getting out of the room, and with a little luck, explanations. The pessimist in him kept saying that there was no way in hell the door would be unlocked, but he ignored it. The doorknob turned all right, squeaking louder than he thought possible, but the door refused to budge. He pushed, he pulled, all to no avail.

"No!" Malik was exasperated. He didn't know where the fuck he was and why the fuck he was there. He was cold, he was getting hungry, and more importantly, he was scared. Very scared. He now realized that he had gotten kidnapped - an honest-to-god kidnapping! That didn't happen in Domino! - and his instincts screamed at him to get away from this place, far, far away. Abandoning any form of logical thinking, he started rattling the door with all his might, delusioned into thinking his skinny frame would be able to do such a thing as rip the door of its hinges.

"Will you stop fucking doing that?" Roared a voice from the other side of the door, making Malik freeze on the spot. Maybe he was scared earlier, but now he was terrified. What the fuck had he gotten into? "Step away from the door." The voice commanded. He hesitated, wondering if he was better to step aside and make a run for it as soon as the door opened, but there was something in that voice that made him decide against it. That, and the fact that his kidnapper had so easily knocked him out told him that he should think twice before doing anything rash. Finally, he headed back towards the bed, sitting on the thin mattress. And waited.

Soon enough, there was a rattling sound coming from the old-fashioned keyhole - the thing was actually in working condition surprisingly - followed by the groaning of the hinges as the door opened, revealing his kidnapper. The man was tall, his platinum blond hair raised in crazy spikes giving him even more height. He wore a sleeveless black shirt that hugged his toned chest and left his muscular arms bare. His legs were clad in thin khaki pants, held up by a think black belt with a huge silver buckle. On his feet were simple black work boots. Malik had a feeling they were probably steel-toed.

"Well well, looks like little Malik's finally awake," he drawled, letting his eyes wander slowly over the boy's body. Malik could feel a shiver slowly make its way up his spine. "About time. It's already morning." The kidnapper closed the door behind him, walking to stand before Malik. Hovering over him, he sneered. "Now the fun can begin."

Terror struck through the Egyptian's heart. "Wha-"

"But first," the man cut him off, not caring. "I'm guessing that you're hungry. I put something in the nightstand earlier on. Help yourself." He turned back towards the door, clearly dismissing himself.

"Wait!" Malik cried, his voice cracking. He coughed, trying to calm his voice into a more serious, take-no-bullshit tone. "Wait." he tried again, steadier but trill scared-sounding. "Why am I here? What the hell do you want?"

The kidnapper turned back, a grin plastered on his face. "Tsk tsk, such a dirty mouth. We'll have to take care of that." He grinned wider, crouching down to be at eye-level with his kidnappee. "Why, I already have what I want." He ran a finger down the other's cheek, letting it rest on his lower lip. "And he's sitting right in front of me." he added before crashing his lips against Malik's. The boy let out a gasp of surprise, and the kidnapper took this opportunity to shove his tongue in the other's mouth. Malik was frozen again, unable to move a muscle as his kidnapper finally broke away, his hand resting on his jaw. The severity of the situation finally crashed down on the boy; he had been kidnapped by a maniac. Said maniac wasn't looking for any old victim, but Malik Ishtar in particular. What was going to happen now?

Letting out a grunt, the man stood up, sneering. "I'll let you eat now. I'll be back in an hour." He turn to leave, opening the door before turning back. "Don't do anything stupid now." With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving a terrified boy behind. The rattling of a key was heard for a moment before silence fell in the room. Now that he wasn't concentrating on he room around him, the Egyptian could hear the other's footsteps around the (house? Cottage? Loony bin?) building, a door opening and slamming, the hollow tick-tocks of a grandfather clock.

Malik's muscles might've not moved an inch for the best part of ten minutes, but his mind was whirling at a hundred miles an hour. He was not home. He was in at the mercy of some crazed asshole. Said asshole seemed to have taken a liking to him. He was kept prisoner. What in the world was he going to do?

One by one, his muscles started to relax, letting the boy move a little. The first thing he did was to wipe his mouth, shuddering. He wasn't quite sure what exactly happened back then, but he felt like something very, very bad was waiting for him around the corner.

His rumbling stomach pulled him out of his nightmare-like thoughts. Truth be told, he was still hungry, traumatizing situation or not. Curiosity and hunger taking over common sense, he opened the nightstand's drawer to find a convenience store lunch pack, complete with a sandwich, baby carrots with dip, a block of cheese and an apple all tightly wrapped in cellophane. The pack didn't seem to have already been open, and quite frankly, the man had already had plenty of occasions to poison him. But then again, who knew what was going through that psychopath's head.

Finally, his stomach won against his brain and he carefully peeled off the cellophane, taking a tentative bite out of the sandwich. The bread was kind of soggy but the ham was okay, causing him to take another bite. Soon enough, the lunch pack was empty, the wrappers resting in little plastic balls around on the bed. The room returned to silence, and Malik could hear the grandfather clock outside striking six, seven, eight times. So it was eight o'clock, morning. He was expected at work in less than an hour. Surely people will notice he's missing. And once they realize he wasn't answering his phone...

'Then what? A search party? 60 policemen breaking down the front door? Is that what you imagine?' His inner pessimist finished his thought. 'Face it. It'll take a while before anyone realizes you're gone. And even then, who's going to think about searching _here_?'

Marik sighed, bringing his feet up and letting his chin rest on his knees. Tears were starting to sting his eyes, but he squeezed his eyes shut, refusing for them to fall. He was going to get out of this mess, and clearly, he was going to do it alone.

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><p><strong>AN: **There we have it folks, the first official chapter. Please R&R, constructive criticism is always welcome!


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